


Explosion (revised)

by HonkBeep



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cauterization, Discrimination, Firebending & Firebenders, Gen, How is that not a tag, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Iroh Adopts Zuko (Avatar), One Shot, POV Iroh (Avatar), Protective Iroh (Avatar), daddy!Iroh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29036022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonkBeep/pseuds/HonkBeep
Summary: “ The ship was smoldering and burning — all that was left of Zuko’s quarters was flaming wreckage, and Iroh’s heart sank as he knew immediately that there was no way the boy could have survived. “Zuko...” He breathed, painful, defeated, tears welling in his eyes.”Canon compliant Iroh POV of that time in season one where Zuko got blown up and it’s immediate aftermath. Iroh goes into daddy mode in this one and the ending is soft ❤️
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 95





	Explosion (revised)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Explosion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27298042) by [HonkBeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HonkBeep/pseuds/HonkBeep). 



> i posted this before but i just kinda stopped writing and it had no ending so i finally wrote an ending and I was gonna edit the original work to have this ending but when you go to edit the text of a work theres a bunch of weird numbers and letters and symbols and it scared me so i am just making this a whole new thing. I linked the old work in case u wanna read it but it is literally just the same thing minus a few sentences at the end 
> 
> as is the case for all my fics i just shat this out in my notes app and am posting it with no edits or anything so i don’t accept criticism but i hope you enjoy :)

“Or just stay in your room and sit in the dark. Whatever makes you happy.” Iroh said to his sulking nephew. He gently closed the door and exited the ship, humming his four seasons song as he tapped down the ramp. He didn’t blame Zuko for being bitter; Zhao had just stolen his entire crew! Even the cook! Neither of them said it, but they both knew that Zhao knew he was the Blue Spirit. He was just as anxious as Zuko about what the  _admiral_ was going to do about it. But at least Iroh was keeping his positive attitude.

He was about halfway up the road when he heard it. An explosion. He whipped around. The only ship in the harbor was burning. His ship. His _nephew’s_ ship.

“Zuko!” He cried as horror shot through him. He flew to the docks as fast as his old bones would carry him. His sandals filled with dirt and his feet felt filthy but he barely noticed, his mind going into tunnel vision focus on what he was racing towards. He did not allow his tense body to relax as he stood at the edge of the dock, eyes wide, expression disbelieving.

The ship was smoldering and burning — all that was left of Zuko’s quarters was flaming wreckage, and Iroh’s heart sank as he knew immediately that there was no way the boy could have survived.  _“Zuko...”_ He breathed, painful, defeated, tears welling in his eyes.

That was Zuko,  _his_ _Zuko!_ Iroh loved that boy more than he loved himself, and he couldn’t help but cry at what a waste it all was. Because that’s what it was; a waste. It was such a waste! Zuko was so strong and determined and good, he had so much good inside him! The goodness raged against his father’s poison within him, but Iroh knew that Zuko would choose good, find the right path, _if only he’d had the_ _chance_ _._ Now he was gone, and the redemption that he was destined for had been stolen from him. Iroh wanted to weep.

A few people were emerging from the woodwork, gathering on the edge of the dock and near the shore, watching the ship burn and the old man grieve for his lost boy. Iroh didn’t notice them, watching the flames crackle with glassy, shell shocked eyes. A few bits of flaming debris floated in the water. Their burning Fire Nation flag, a barrel of blasting jelly, a wooden mast. The mast bobbed.

Iroh’s ears perked up.  _The mast bobbed_ _._ A limb, a soggy ponytail, Zuko! Iroh cried his name out and immediately stripped his outer layers, plunging into the water and kicking hard, his heart surging with hope. He splashed water on the mast to douse residual flames and grabbed Zuko’s arm. The boy was limp but Iroh didn’t care, he threw the arm over his shoulder, grabbed the torso, careful to keep the head above water, and swam for shore, dragging Zuko’s lifeless body up the boat launch and laying him hastily on shore.

By this time the few people gathered around had grown into a small crowd. Iroh was on his knees beside the boy and looked up helplessly at them. His despair had turned into desperation and fervor. He refused to let the young prince die. “Please! He’s not breathing! Is anyone a waterbender? Please help us!” The crowd shifted uncomfortably but no one stepped forward. Iroh began chest compressions.

He thrust his weight into his nephew’s ribcage, but felt at least one of the bones was cracked. Unwilling to do more damage, he rolled the boy over and began smacking the center of his back. After a few smacks, Zuko gurgled and began to cough up water. Relief.

His gold eyes were slightly visible as his eyelids cracked open, and then lazily closed again as he lolled out of consciousness. Iroh rolled him onto his back again and examined the injuries.

It was.... bad. A massive bruise was forming on his jaw, he had cuts on his upper lip, and though Iroh loved his nephew despite his scar, even he had to admit that Zuko was one kid that a black eye really did not look good on. He pulled the boy’s soggy shirt off of his little body and was met with horror. Bruises were forming over cracked and broken ribs, and there was a huge piece of shrapnel embedded in his side. The wound was leaking blood bad and a dark stain on the concrete boat launch ran down until it reached the waves that lapped red. Iroh again looked to the crowd pleadingly.

“Please, help! He’s bleeding! Is anyone a doctor?”

Silence. Zuko looked impossibly pale as the blood continued to drain from him.

“Please anybody! My nephew— my son!” Iroh choked out a sob. “He’s bleeding too much! He’s going to die! Please, somebody help us, I cannot lose another son!” Iroh was crying now, looking at Zuko’s slack face grow whiter and whiter. Nobody moved, just murmured. Iroh looked helplessly at Zuko, trying to convince himself to do what he was slowly beginning to realize he had to.

It felt like just days ago where little Zuko would flinch if Iroh so much as lit a flame in his palm. Insisted that a bucket of water be available during firebending practice. Cried and screamed in his sleep, full of horrible nightmares revolving around being burned.

Iroh remembered when Zuko had messed up a firebending move and cowered, barely daring to look at Iroh, breath and heart racing in fear. Iroh remembered how he had reached down, grabbed Zuko’s arm gently, forced him to look up, and promised sincerely that he would never, _ever,_ lay a hand on Zuko in his life. He had promised never to hit him, kick him,  _burn him. ..._

He looked down at the gaping wound, at his own hands, at his nephew’s — no, his son’s — pale face, and begged forgiveness from the spirits for the act he was about to commit. “Forgive me, Zuko.” He muttered into the boy’s ear. Then he braced his forearm across Zuko’s torso and arms and with his other hand, wrenched out the shrapnel.

Zuko cried. The blood gushed. As quickly as he could, Iroh covered the wound with his hand, feeling the warm blood coat his fingers, and summoned a flame.

Zuko’s scream was eerily similar to the one Ozai had ripped from him on that terrible day almost three years ago, and Iroh had to keep himself from pulling away before the wound was fully cauterized. He knew it hurt Zuko more than it hurt him, but it still hurt him. A lot.

Zuko had not regained consciousness after his wound was cauterized, but he quivered and whimpered nonetheless. Iroh knew Zuko needed more medical attention than he could give, and again turned to the crowd. “Please, if no one is a doctor, just tell me where I can find one. Please, I cannot lose another son.” His voice cracked on the word.

The crowd again shifted awkwardly. Finally, someone piped up. “In town.” They said uncomfortably. “Thank you! What is your name? The Fire Nation owes you it’s gratitude.” The person told Iroh their name and he bowed to them before picking up Zuko in his arms and rushing up the road, holding his son as close to him as possible, trying so hard to be gentle without compromising his pace.

“You are so strong, Zuko. You will get through this. You are such a strong young man, I love you. I care for you. I won’t let you down.” Iroh was murmuring kind nothings in Zuko’s ear as he carried him. He didn’t know if the boy was aware of what was going on around him, but he could feel his life slipping away through his fingers like sand, and while he fought hard to save it, if Zuko had to die, Iroh would make sure he died feeling love.

When Iroh got to town, asking around got him to the town doctor in no time. He rapped aggressively on the door. When the woman opened it, Iroh let the words burst out of his mouth. “PLEASE! My neph- my son! He’s dying, he’s bleeding, his ribs are broken, he needs help!”

The doctor looked them up and down skeptically. “Hmph. Well I’m sorry to hear that but I don’t treat firebenders no matter how hurt they are.”

Iroh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. _“PLEASE!”_ He all but yelled. “We will pay any price! Please, he is so young, I can’t lose my son, please!”

The door slammed in his face. _“Zuko_ _.”_ Iroh finally allowed himself to weep. He sat down in the alley next to the doctor’s residence and placed Zuko’s head in his lap. “Zuko,” he whimpered, knowing the boy was going to die. “I love you so much, Zuko. You are so good, so brave, so gentle, so kind. You are so young, you deserve so much better, Zuko.” He took a moment to sob before resuming, his tears dripping from his face and landing on his nephew’s. “You deserve so much better, you deserve turtleducks and pai sho and tea and spicy noodles. You deserve warm sand and beach days and sunlight and fun. You deserve nights at the theater and time with friends and warmth and love. You deserve love, Zuko, you deserve so much love.” He was crying too hard now, unable to form words. In his lap, Zuko shook. He curled in a little closer to his Uncle’s warmth. 

Iroh looked down, still teary, but alerted by the movement. Zuko was moving? Was he awake? Did this mean he was going to be okay? “Zuko?” He asked. His voice cracked on his son’s name. In his lap, the boy rasped something. He looked up at Iroh through his swollen black eye and opened his mouth to speak. 

“Th-thank you, Uncle.” He croaked weakly. And then, words Iroh never thought he would hear; “I love you.” 

And then, Zuko passed out on his Uncle’s lap again. He curled into Iroh’s belly, but this time he knew he was safe and loved — and Iroh knew he would be okay. 


End file.
